


Elective II

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [41]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Culture, Humor, kinda slice of life, my terrible sense of, the life and times of non-main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Sar has a hard time putting into words how his new subject makes him feel. It's not that horrible, all told.(Yes, to those who noticed, this one got away from me during editing. Damned buttons. All done now.)





	Elective II

**Author's Note:**

> Unbelievably enough this is the 40th short story of this series xD wth. Thanks for sticking with me ;)
> 
> Also: I would like to apologise T__T I've recently realized the wiki has mislead me when I started these stories and I've been typoing poor Somminick's name all along. I had to go back and fix that. Did I mention this is the 40th story? Yeeeah. That took a bit of pep talk. 
> 
> But! Somminick Timmns has now become an official tag of AO3 that can be filtered for! (And it's not typoed!) As T7 would say, Mission = Success!

 

 

Adjusting the lesson plans after it becomes clear that their institution is no longer an expansive war camp, liable to be attacked at any moment, is an undertaking almost worse than their entire campaign against Zakuul.

... perhaps Master Za’uir is allowing himself to put undue emphasis on that point. Considering the week he has had he feels entitled to a spot of self-pity.

He had gone into it expecting the Sith in attendance to be the greatest hurdle in extending their narrow scope. As had quickly become apparent he had been _right_.

Oh, they weren’t a hindrance. Not as such.

A Jedi should value knowledge and wisdom. Since the beginnings of their Order his brethren have collected records from the far reaches of the galaxy, to better understand their fellow beings and the worlds they live on.

And that’s the rub. They are an Order. They have their principles, their ideals and a certain way of life.

So do the Sith but they’re also a _people_. Chief Inquisitor Melisandre and Lord Hargrev catch the first inkling of ‘a slight redirection of focus toward non-combat oriented subjects’ and Za’uir sees himself facing down a full-scale revolt.

If there is time and resources for additional subjects they want their warriors, sorcerers and assassins to be _properly trained_. Asking what that entails might have been the Bimm’s first and last mistake.

(They have a list. Several. By all the little gods.)

He can’t claim he won that battle.

Indeed he might have made a few concessions. All in the spirit of mutual exchange, of course. (Possibly also in the spirit of not being shanked by an irate Sith in the middle of the night. They do get so passionate.)

However the last minute addendum to the curriculum brings the placid Master up short. He blinks. Once. Twice.

With utmost care he reloads the data file. It doesn’t change. “Lord Hargrev?”

“Yes.”

“Are you quite sure,” Za’uir trails off, searching for a way to put his misgivings tactfully. “I mean, I have the greatest respect for overseer Sar’s… dedication. But,” _he’s a walking faux pas_ , “art and culture?”

“Don’t remind me.”

 

\---

 

Sar has a hard time describing how his new class makes him feel.

There’s something very rewarding about seeing their heritage preserved, given new life in more and less clumsy hands. It’s… relaxing.

Combat lessons are his life blood yet they also provide him with certain stress factors. You _can’t_ allow your students to kriff up with live weaponry. Any bad habits he doesn’t catch will be their undoing.

An errand brush stroke has never killed anyone. Unless you’re talking calligraphy, may the Force preserve his sanity. Half of his pupils are barely fit for cuneiform.

Still, Sar has his difficulties balancing his usual duties against the newest addition to his workload. Not for the first time he has to admit, privately, that having a partner… helps. Timmns won’t let anything important slip them by. The certainty of that conviction is as soothing as it is _uncomfortable_.

But he has better things to be worrying about than his apparent trust in a _Jedi_.

Slowly, Sar lets his head sink to the table top, weighed down by despair. In the adjacent corner of their freshly repainted office Timmns looks up from his own grading.

“Are you alright?”

“ _No._ ” He can _feel_ a spike of concern leaking all over himself. “Ugh. Stop it. I’m fine. Just fine.”

“You know you can tell-“

“I’m great!”

“ _Yon._ ”

The Sith is tempted to plug his ears and play dead. Maybe Timmns will go away and let him suffer in peace. Only he won’t. Stubborn bastard.

“They’re so _bad_.” The complaint is a few shades closer to a whine than Sar cares for but he feels he can be excused just this once. A few concessions have to be allowed.

Somminick’s vibrant presence calms to a hum that holds more amusement than alarm. “I’m sure they’re giving it their all.”

 _Of all the_ \- “ _Their all_!” Sar slams both hands onto the desk, almost upending half his work, and glares at his colleague. “They wouldn’t know a wodsasyuha ridis if it bit them in the ass! What have they been doing with their life!“

There’s a pause.

“A truly tragic oversight. What exactly are we talking about?”

Sar considers it an effort of supreme self-control that he doesn’t set something on fire then and there. Merciful stars, he’s not working with a Jedi. He’s working with a Jedi _barbarian_. “ _Poetry_. The highest bloody form of kriffing communication.”

“Right.”

“… I don’t _know_ you.”

 

 


End file.
